A Ghost of a Chance
by Machelix Mexilhann
Summary: This is a mixture of Corpse Bride and Yu Yu Hakusho fan-fictions with a few elements from other cartoons, games, movies, etc. thrown in. Suzaku is back, and he's got his eyes set on my city; I'm not the kind of guy to take that lightly.
1. The Dark Ordeal

Chapter I: The Dark Ordeal

**Chapter ****I****: The Dark Ordeal**

_**October 24, 2003.**_ Many a tale lives on the breath of the wind, some of them as dark as a moonless night, others as light and happy as a father caught in the breeze. My tale is a recent one, but one full of life. And yet, it's also full of death at the same time. This tale goes back before Katrina's assault on New Orleans, before the Iraqi War, even before the reelection of George Bush II. Let me take you there the only way I know how…

It was as dark as any night got, a night filled with darkest despair and saddest sorrow. The taste of death clogged the senses and blotted out all hope and happiness in anyone who dared to venture beyond the safety and tranquility of their homes. Black storm clouds grumbled overhead, blocking out the moon and stars; a storm was imminent in the bleak darkness.

The only thing to bring cheer to this desolately gloomy night was a sweet melody that echoed through the night. This melody's song was as sweet as a box of candy and as beautiful as nature itself, but it was also as sad as the death of a dear friend. However, as sweet as this song was, only the dead could hear it, for it was a mystical tune known as the "Requiem of the Wayward Spirit".

All of the ghosts, zombies, and other miscellaneous spirits found throughout the city floated, walked, or crawled to where the music was coming from; they came from graveyards, centuries-old houses, and even from television sets, all drawn by the music's lure. Their paths converged at the old, abandoned theatre in the near center of the city. It was a miracle that no one noticed his arcane phenomenon.

Meanwhile, back at my house, I was having another rough night. I just couldn't sleep. None of my CD's could lull me off to sleep, and I was starting to grow restless. "I should stop these all-nighter Nintendo sprees," I grumbled to myself in the darkness around my bed covers.

As soon as the last song on my CD player ended, another one replaced it. This song was like nothing I ever heard before. It wasn't fancy and droll like classical music, but it wasn't loud and annoying like rap or rock, either. This song, accompanied by a rush of butterflies by my window, was enough to sap my body of insomnia. My head fell on my pillows as I dozed off to dreamland.

A solitary figure stood on the stage of the theatre. His spiky yellow hair stood out from the drab, death-withered colors of his audience amassed before him like the moon to the night sky, especially in his red and white Chinese outfit. He outstretched his arms with a highly adorned flute that looked like a spider spinning a web in one hand. He addressed his undead audience with a warm embrace, saying, "Greetings, fellow scourges of the beyond, brothers and sisters of the dead. This day we will take our revenge upon the living!" A cheer came up from a large portion of the gathered.

"I plan to turn our revenge into a contest of skill, cunning, and daring to make it all worthwhile and exciting. For you zombies and corpses, your challenge is to drain as much blood from as many people using whatever method pleases you most; it doesn't matter to me." An even bigger cheer came from the rotting forms of the monsters in this portion of the contest.

The person with the flute turned his attention to the ghosts either floating in the rafters of the theatre or in seats alongside the zombies. "For ghosts and spirits," he told them, "your challenge will be to overshadow the most brilliant minds of the Living Realm and bring them back here. As with the other contest, any method will – yes?"

A hand had been raised by a beautiful Arabian ghost by the name of Desiree. She posed this question to her generous host: "How will zombies be able to tell the difference between a ghost-possessed person and a normal person? After all, zombies can't tell eye color or voices when they're in a blood frenzy."

"You pose a good question," replied the host, "and one that I have already developed a solution for. My assistant will supply a green medallion to any and all ghosts that plan on entering. The ghosts are to put that medallion around the neck of the person they're possessing. Any zombie who touches a person with one of these green medallions on will be disqualified on account of cheating. Other than that, just go out there and have fun! The contest will begin as soon as dawn breaks; rest those weary bones for one more night and hold your hate for one more day. Tomorrow begins the march of the dead!" One final cheer arose from the crowd as they filed out of the theatre, smiles drawn wide across their rotting and undead faces. They had wanted to see blood or so long; now was their chance to get some.

As the meeting was going on, a pale blue-skinned maiden in a snow-white dress and a bouquet of flowers in her hand watched from the recording both in the way back with a single eye. Her gentle face grew more worried as the strange flutist's contest unfolded. "He's going to be first on their list, I know it!" she breathed. "I can't let that happen!" As the other undead exited the theatre, a light flashed, and the blue-haired maiden disappeared. Butterflies flew out of a broken window and into the open night air.

XXXXXXXXXX

If you like this story, I would greatly appreciate comments. Even if you don't like the story, I want to hear what I can do to make them better. I want to know the people who are reading them, maybe get to know them better and discuss future story ideas. In other words, COMMENT!


	2. Every Undead for Herself!

Chapter II: Every Undead for Herself

**Chapter ****II****: Every Undead for Herself!**

_BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!_ My alarm clock sounded just as my dream was starting to get interesting. It was about a mass grouping of dead beings in an old building watching a deranged tap-dancer balance a piranha on his nose and juggle sharks.

I shook the weird dream out of my head, climbed down from my bunk bed, and smacked the alarm clock on my dresser silent. Its time read 7:03. Another school day, I guessed. I yawned a long, sleepy yawn and took a long-sleeved shirt out of my closet with a pair of jeans, putting them on on my brother's bed. I threw my backpack over my arm and headed in search of my shoes and socks.

A figure waited in the shadows of my closet, looking around sleepily. She carefully stepped out, sidestepping the toys scattered throughout the floor. She crept to the door and peeked around the corner, her eye tracing the movements of someone who was walking down the stairs. She smiled to herself and murmured, "There he is, safe and sound."

She stole back into the room, closed the door, opened a window, and sat on the bed. A light hid her from view. A light-blue butterfly flew out of this light and flew out of the window into the crisp morning breeze. Another butterfly in he same color soon followed, and another, and another. A sea of butterflies flew out the window, collecting into a cloud formation.

This cloud of butterflies flew around the house to the front lawn. Most of them collected in the large crabapple tree planted by the center of the house, but one fluttered down and landed on a red car, a Subaru o be precise.

A door slammed, and several people came running towards the car. Three of these people were teenage girls, one was a woman in her late thirties, and the final one was the person she was watching: a boy about thirteen with brown, unruly curly hair and a backpack slung across his back. They all piled into the car, and it revved to life, almost shaking the lone butterfly off. The car backed up out of the driveway, turned down the winding stretch of road, and sped down the following road. A small batch of the butterfly cloud, about ten at least, followed after the car, making sure to stick close to the bushes.

The car arrived at the front of a large brick structure, not even a mile from where the journey stated. This structure extended down quite a ways and was irregularly shaped. The four younger passengers of the car exited the car and ran towards a set of glass doors leading into this arcane building. The butterfly followed them in as the door leading outside closed. The others in its swarm looked onward from the two trees on the other side of the car.

The butterfly looked around within the vast hallways of the school, but it didn't see anyone. The hallway was so empty that a salvo of guns could have been fired from one end of the hall to the other without striking anything. The best thing this butterfly thought to do was to search the building at one end, the end closer to it. It soared to the left, its antennae always awaiting the familiar sensation of its secret lover.

I walked down the hallway of the school, passing a group of students going to the high school. They were chatting about something, although I didn't care what. All I cared about was getting to my classroom on time. The teacher had promised us something special for today, and I intended to find out what he was talking about.

I turned around an obtuse corner and passed the art room, the auditorium, the middle school entrance, the gymnasium, and the office all in the same hallway. Students were milling about in each area, getting ready to start the day. I chuckled to myself as I turned down another hallway. This one was also a bustle of energy, my fellow classmates running to and from the different classrooms, the sound of the chaotic babbling carrying on throughout the hallway. I expertly weaved through the action to the room at the far end of the hall right by the emergency escape door leading outside. I opened the door and entered.

Inside this room, six huge desks that could seat four people apiece (or up to six if necessary) dotted the floor. The teacher's desk was at the head of these desks, almost taking up as much space as two of the regular desks. A lab table was on the same wall as the door was, taking up what was left of it.

I walked by this table, past all the assorted beakers, bottles, and other scientific equipment to the lockers taking up the back wall. Mine was the fourth from the left. I entered my combination, opened my locker, and took my books. I carried them to my seat, sighed, and returned to my locker. Another school day, alright.

When I got to my locker, it was already closed. In the vent near the top of the door, a rose was planted. Nothing was attached, not even a secret admirer note. Strange. I picked the flower and returned to my seat, keeping it hidden.

Someone else was in my seat when I got there. He had red hair with a slight tinge of pink in it, the bangs drooping down to the shoulders of his pink jumpsuit's jacket. His gentle green eyes were scanning a book, a comic book. He noticed me hovering over him, so he put his book down and turned to me. "May I be of service?" he said. His voice was as soft as his eyes.

"Yes, actually, there is," I replied. "I've never seen you in our class before. Are you new?'

"You could say that. I'm an exchange student from Japan. My name is Shuichi, but my friends call me Kurama."

"They call me Heilmann, Michael Heilmann." I extended a hand to him, and he gave it a firm shake.

"You speak a very fluent English, Kurama. How long have you been here?"

"Only two days, but I was always an excellent student. I learned your language fairly easily, although I have yet to learn the customs of this school; _very_ much unlike my own."

"Yeah, it took me a little while to adjust, also."

I fingered the rose, pricking a finger on a thorn. "Speaking of things that aren't ours, does this belong to you?" I held up the rose for him to see.

He nodded as he took the rose and placed it in the breast pocket of his jacket. "I've always been fond of flowers," he explained with a grimace.

I looked up at the clock hanging right above the doorway. The time was 7:55, almost time for class. I took my seat next to Kurama and took out my science book.

Suzaku looked out the window of the theatre and into the still morning sun. He grinned to himself, his flute tucked in his hand. "Mine…" he murmured. "All mine. A place where we and the others can live in peace undetected. Plenty of food flow, plenty of water, even plenty of space to move around shall soon be mine. All that's needed is time."

A green bird with a violet-blue tuft of hair on her head flew through the door behind him carrying several green medallions in her talons. "Murugu reporting, Suzaku," the bird chirped as she alighted on a table.

Suzaku turned around, his mouth still a grin but his eyes focused and serious. He folded his hands behind his back and asked, "How many pawns do we have in our game?"

"At least one hundred spirits and ghosts, but I didn't count the zombies."

"Would you say above or below one thousand?"

"Oh, definitely above."

Suzaku turned around again and continued to stare out the window. His eyes traveled down the complex streets of the city, wandering amongst the alleyways and winding highways. Without turning away, he muttered, "We're going to need a shit load more."

I looked up at the clock again. The time was 8:55. I was sitting in the math classroom, the only other classroom on this side of the hall. Science had only ended five minutes ago, but it was only a movie about cells. His "surprise" had turned out to be the person who had been sitting next to me in that science class. I had been expecting sweets, but such was life.

Strangely, that same "surprise" had ended up in my math class, also.

Today was another review day in this class; not really all that difficult, especially to a math wiz such as myself and the fact that I had learned all this crap the previous year in 6th grade! Ah well, I didn't hold that against the teacher. He had enough crap to deal with, especially all of the major league jackasses sitting around me like sharks around a killer whale.

As I listened to his lecture on the formulas of different polygon angles and what not, a note was dropped onto my desk. This note was made on the customary white-lined paper, but it had a very unorthodox marking sealing it shut. It was a Japanese symbol, or it could have been Chinese. Either way I knew who sent it. I opened it up discretely and read the message: "Has anything strange happened to you recently?"

I frowned at this statement. What would he want to know about that for? Sure, I had two weird incidences occurred to me, but they were none of his business. I took out a pencil and replied, "Who wants to know?" I hastily folded up the note and returned it from the same direction. I returned to my notes.

The note from Kurama landed on my desk within the minute. How it made it out and back into the ring of ignoramuses let alone out of the eyes of the teacher was beyond me, but it wasn't my place to complain. I reopened the note. Both of the prior messages had been erased, but a new one had replaced them. "The Police of My World. They know all about your excursions last year, and they want to know more."

My eyes widened at this new discovery. He wasn't bluffing. For all I knew about this new predicament, Kurama was a spy sent here to apprehend and capture me! I didn't know I had even done anything wrong! My brain raked itself in order to turn up a liable excuse to pull my butt out of the fryer. Suddenly, one turned up. "It wasn't my fault; I was led down into that realm by Mario, Ash, and Anakin. I even helped all of them out with their problems. What's so suspicious about that?"

The note again went undetected through the gauntlet. It was as if the teacher was ignoring our note on purpose! Curious.

This time, it read, "You were behind _that_ intrusion? I thought that you were behind a different one; sorry about that."

My brow furrowed with this remark. Why that smug little bastard! He was probably laughing his head off over there while I was reading this latest note. I had been worried about going off to some jail in who-knows-where, and he expects it to be okay? I furiously wrote a message back to him: "What crime or intrusion could have been so bad that you had to interrogate me in the middle of math class? Whatever it was, I'm not that evil of a person to commit that. Your 'superiors' should have enough of that data to figure that out if they know who I am and where to find me."

The message came back to me unscathed and unspotted just like the last several. The reply that came this time froze me to the core, even more so than the accusing message had, even causing me to drop my pencil to the desk: "The End of the World has escaped into this very city, and you were thought to have released him."

Murugu flew over the bustling city, twittering a soft melody. To ordinary passersby, it was an ordinary tune known to most birds as far as they knew.

But, to the supernatural dead found hiding all around the city, the tune was a prearranged signal: time for the haunting to begin.

Ghosts flew in all directions, their eyes peeled for any potential targets and their green medallions held tight in their grasps. Zombies and demons ran through the streets, their weapons searing through victim after victim. They tore through whole crowds and harvested their blood into special containers.

They worked so fast that in one minute they leveled a crowded street literally flooded with people. Cries and moaning were the only warnings that the still unsuspecting city had of this onslaught of bloody horror. Even so, they were soon preyed upon and left for dead. Bloody carnage was all that was left behind.

Suzaku watched this insane, festering madness with a wicked laugh filling in the recently emptied stillness, his pet bird perched on his shoulder appreciating this soothing music.

Almost three classes later, Kurama and I hooked up again in the gymnasium. Kurama had changed out of his pink suit and was now wearing a white tee shirt with maroon gym shorts complete with black sneakers. I was dressed similarly, except that my shirt was a solid blue. We were both in a long line stretching from one side of the room to the other with some of my other classmates. A red, rubbery ball was lodged in my hands, as were the others in our formation. We all faced another group of students across the room from us, equally armed but twice as muscular. The gym teacher was in the higher bleachers, looking down at what was going to be a fiercely heated battle. He blew his whistle, and all hell broke loose.

The balls were launched at breakneck speeds across the room. Several people fell on either side, mostly ours, having either been struck in the head or in a solid shot to the crotch. Still others were carting these poor victims up the stairs to join the safety of the teacher.

I loved dodge ball. :)

I used my ball to block the onslaught of rubbery death that threatened to take any one of us out of the picture. Kurama was playing the offensive angle right behind me, throwing the balls with pinpoint accuracy and striking down victim after victim. His viciousness was the name of the game that I liked best, despite my lack of a decent throwing arm. We made a good team.

A ball came whizzing right towards me. I angled the ball in my hand and sent the enemy projectile bouncing harmlessly to one of the people next to me. Unfortunately, when he bent down to pick up my ball, he got plowed in the crown with another of the enemies'. "Man down, man down," I bellowed with a cackle. Kurama quickly evened the score as he caught the ball that had taken out our ally. Two "rescue workers" ran onto the scene to take 0him away.

One of the guys in their line, a burly guy who looked more like a senior than a seventh grader, stepped to the front of their ranks. This guy was the bully of the middle school, a complete punk-ass jerk with more meat in his foot than in his head. A pair of dodge balls was in each of his huge hands, and he was staring straight at me. I returned the stare with a pair of nervous Jolly Rogers in my eyes.

I looked to either side. All of our other men had been taken out, and the other team had hoarded all of the other dodge balls, except for the one I held in my hand. Kurama was completely empty, and I was a sitting duck. He was a better player than me by far: time for a sacrifice.

The big guy wound up his arm to pitch the ball. If it collided with me, I doubt that even the dodge ball in my hand could have saved me. I quickly turned around and handed Kurama the ball. I swept my eyes to the side, a covert command: _get out of the way_. He obliged and ran for the stairs.

As soon as he was out of harm's way, I felt a sharp blow to my back that felt like a bazooka round was colliding full into it. I was thrown out of the room, even through the metal door leading into the hallway, The door took away most of the momentum, so I fell to the floor and skidded along it to the wall of the outside of the office. My head struck first.

I shakily stood up, every slight jar a race of pain to my brain. It felt like I had broken every bone in my body. I hobbled around the wall and through the door. There, the receptionist took one look at me and signed out a hall pass for the nurse. She pointed down the hallway towards the high school. I grudgingly took the hall pass and hobbled out the door; so much for pity.

As I limped out of the office and turned left, a strange tingling sensation raced up my back. It wasn't a sensation of pain, far from it. It felt like something was sewing my broken bones back together. It was a wonderful feeling, and it made me feel happy, happier than I had felt in literal ages. The sensation was over in a second, but I wish it had lasted a lifetime.

A butterfly fluttered from behind me, a small blue butterfly unlike any I had ever seen. Curious as to why a butterfly was in the school, I followed it. It fluttered down the hall where I was originally going, but it took a sudden turn as it approached the entrance to the school. I opened the door for it to leave.

I wish I hadn't. Outside the school a surge of all kinds of decaying zombies and demons rampaged down the streets. Their implements were covered with blood, even leaking a trail of it. The strange devices on their backs also leaked a bloody red. I quickly shut the door and ran back towards the gymnasium at top speed. The blue butterfly followed behind me.

I burst through the doors and came upon a surprising scene. Kurama was standing right in front of the door, spinning a dodge ball on his finger like a professional basketball player. Everyone on the other side of the room was holding their crotches or their heads, even the behemoth.

I turned Kurama around, locking eyes and knocking the dodge ball from its rotation. "You know that End of the World surprise I thought you were kidding about? I believe you now."

"What do you mean?" he asked quizzically.

I whispered the reply into his ear: "I see dead people. Real ones, ones with scythes, swords, and all sorts of equipment built to rip humans apart. They were walking down the street and-"

The intercom interrupted me. "Attention please," the principal announced, "Please do not panic when I tell you this latest news: A wave of terror is right outside our school with full intent to do bodily harm. Please stay where you are and try not to panic. The proper authorities have been informed of our situation and-" a crash of glass interrupted her. "What? No, not me! Get away you- AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!" The line went dead.

Everyone in this wing of the school screamed simultaneously. Only Kurama and I kept our heads. "You stay here and evacuate these wounded soldiers. I'll get the rest of the school organized and out of here."

Kurama nodded his approval and ran up the stairs. I ran back out of the gym, leaving Kurama to do his work. With that dodge ball victory under his belt, he ought to garner some respect.

I bolted down the hallway back into the seventh grade hallway. The screaming hadn't stopped here, and chaos reigned supreme. Students and even teachers were running amok throughout the hallway towards the emergency exit door.

However, they found their way blocked by the causes of the emergency themselves. A pair of zombies each wielding scythes kicked in the doors. They laughed a sickening cackle and slashed the nearest person to a bloody pulp.

The flow of traffic reversed with this show of violence, leading straight at me! I ducked inside the door to my immediate right and locked it. The sound of the stampede brushed past the door, something bumping into it occasionally. I ducked right behind the door, barring it with my whole self but otherwise relying on the door lock to keep the death and chaos out. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I was safe for now.

The tip of a scythe blade ripped through the thick oak door within an inch from the side of my head. A drop of blood dripped down from it with a splinter from the door. Unable to stifle it, I released a terrified shriek. The zombie on the other end cackled to himself and ripped the scythe out of the door. He slashed again, this time on the other side of my head. I let out another scream of terror. Foreseeing what would come next, I rolled out of the way. The scythe struck a third time, right where my head had been.

Truly safe for the moment, I looked around my temporary safe house. I had stumbled into a bathroom, a boy's bathroom (thank God). Two of the stalls were occupied, but I didn't hear any of them being used for crapping. I curiously looked inside the first one and saw my friend Mark Spencer! He was shaking in his glasses and wearing a pair of jeans with a striped shirt.

"Mark! What are you doing here?" I gasped.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Mark shot back sarcastically. "I'm concealing myself in the lavatory of a learning facility being overrun by the physical manifestations of those long deceased!"

"In English," I stated, an edge of impatience in my tone.

"I'm hiding in here!"

"Along with me," piped up the person in the other stall. A quick peek revealed that he was Garrett Schneider, another friend of mine. He was also wearing a pair of glasses and a more punk shirt than Mark's. His jeans were almost an exact match to Mark's, though.

"I think I'll join you."

I was about to run towards the stall at the end of the line, but something that phased through the wall stunned me too much to move. A ghost had appeared right above us. She looked like one of those harems from olden Arabian days, like the pictures in our history books. Her raven-black hair was thrown back over her shoulders, tracing down her back in a wave. Bracelets, earrings, and other jewelry adorned her greenish skin.

"You aren't going anywhere, big boy," she said, looking straight at me. She soared straight at me, her red eyes locked on my stunned figure.

She was stopped in her tracks by a round of blaster fire. Another ghost phased in through the ceiling, a metallic ghost covered in some sort of high-tech armor. He looked quite intimidating in it all to say the least. The aquamarine flames sticking out of his head and the back of his neck resembled hair, as did the flame goatee sticking out of his chin. The blaster he used to ward off the Arabian ghost was sticking out of his arm, and it was still pointed at her.

"Back off, princess," he growled. "This prize is mine."

The Arabian ghost glared at him. "Not on your afterlife, Tin Man. I was here first, so deal with it."

A familiar sensation raced up my spine. However, this time I didn't feel happy; I felt pissed off, as in "stole your girlfriend and dumped her after the first date" pissed off. My hand glowed with a blue energy unfamiliar to me. I pointed this energy at the mechanical ghost and shot out a beam of it. The beam formed into the shape of a butterfly. It struck the ghost full in the chest plate, knocking him into the wall. He collapsed in a heap.

My two friends looked at me with scared eyes as wide as the toilet seats they sat on.

As I looked over my handiwork, the Arabian ghost took another shot at me. She flew dead at me, her hands clawed and outstretched. She phased past my skin and into my body. I immediately shut my eyes and held my head with my empty hand. Both burned as if on fire. This ghost must have been trying to take me over!

Something held onto my sanity, even with the ghost's ghastly tendrils slowly squeezing it out. This slight bit of sanity brought the energy-infused hand to my face. The fingers grasped for something and found it. When they pulled away from my face, they carried something with them: the head of the Arabian ghost! I continued to pull her out of me, regaining control over myself.

I held her by her neck before me with my open hand, the energy of my other one coursing with energy within an inch of her forehead. My friendly blue eyes had turned a stone cold black that shone like obsidian. Without my brain telling it to, something unexpected escaped my lips: "Back off, bitch. He's mine and only mine." Another butterfly escaped my hand, dragging her out of the bathroom and, hopefully, to the Hell where she belonged.

The other ghost stood up shakily, several more guns pointed at me, as were two pointing at my friends. "Come quietly, whelp, or your friends get a belly-full of lead!"

"Actually, you tow your metallic ass out of here, or you'll be lucky to be wearing a metallic barrel after I'm finished with you." The energy on my hand coursed a deeper shade of blue.

The ghost winced. His bluff had been called. That was the last time he used empty guns to fake a threat. Instead, he took a different gun off of his back.

Garrett looked at that gun as if it were made of solid gold. "An MG-36," he breathed, leaning off of his toilet to get a better look.

The ghost grimaced. "It seems your friend has a large knowledge of weaponry," he complimented.

"Yeah," I replied casually, "he could tell you the name of any gun if you only show it to him. He's trigger-happy like that."

"Well, what a coincidence, so am I." He fired the shotgun at me, a five-shot burst from a 22-caliber shotgun; just my luck. I quickly shut my eyes so as not to see the ammunition rip my body to pieces. I waited a full second, but I didn't feel anything. I opened my eye just a hair to see what the problem was. I didn't expect what my eyes beheld.

In my line of vision, the shrapnel was moving in slow motion. Everything was moving in slow motion. I instantly saw where the lead balls were going to fly, and I maneuvered into the blind spot they left, my hand outstretched to the ghost's face. The bullets sped up until they crashed into the wall with full velocity as soon as I was in place.

A sneer crossed my face. "You have some nerve, you undead bastard. You threatened my friends, and now you fire on me. Well, the tables aren't pointing in your favor anymore, are they?"

I shot out the energy from my hand. A swarm of the butterflies I had released earlier flew straight at the ghost, knocking the shotgun out of his hands and ripping the armor covering him to shreds. Metal shards clattered against the tile floor like a shattered glass pane. The rest of the swarm threw him out of the room. Hopefully he wasn't coming back.

Garrett hopped off the john and picked up the gun that the ghost had dropped. He looked it over, studying the various actions and features. Finally, he shouted, "This gun is perfect! Hundred-round drum, folding stock, bipod, full-auto capabilities, even a 3x opt scope with a carry handle!" He gave the trigger a fresh squeeze, blowing the sink in front of him to smithereens. He only grinned all the wider.

He ran towards the door, unlocked it, and kicked it open. A small legion of zombies met him on the other side of the doorway. He held out the barrel of the shotgun and pumped a five round burst into them. They fell apart along jagged holes blown into them, their blood canisters leaking on the floor. He ran down the hall like a madman, pumping burst after burst into the zombies before him. Mark and I did our best to keep up with him.

When we passed the auditorium, I looked through the glass, metal-framed doors. Inside, Kurama was completely surrounded by a mob of those murderous zombies!

I called to Garrett to come back and help, but he couldn't hear us over the sound of his own artillery. I shook my head as Mark and I both ran through the door in order to offer assistance to Kurama.

All of the zombies turned to us, an eyeball or two falling to the ground. Their teeth leered at us, again one or two sets of jaws falling to the floor. They held up their weapons to us, showing us what they hoped to rip our flesh off with.

Kurama looked around him and noticed the zombies' distraction. He smiled to himself and took out a rose, the same rose that I had given him before. He casually sniffed it, as if there was no one there to watch him. This rose coursed with a yellowish energy and enlarged. The stem grew snakelike, edged with brutally thick thorns and a spike at the end.

He snapped the stem into the air like a whip, holding onto the rose-tipped handle. He slashed one of the zombies nearer to us using this rose-fashioned whip in half and snatched the scythe from his hand all in one clever motion.

He caught the scythe as he reeled in his whip and threw it to me. "Go! Get out of here!" he shouted as he slashed another zombie to pieces.

I happily obliged.

Running out the door and into the bloody hallway, we took a slight right and ran out the door into the open air. The buildings across the street were smoking, their walls jagged remnants of what was once a series of homes.

We didn't have time to mourn their losses; we were too preoccupied with avoiding our own demises.

Another blue butterfly flew into my line of vision. It flew on a straight course, down the street and towards the high school. Curious despite the past half-hour's events, I followed it as Mark followed me. I grasped the scythe even tighter.

The butterfly led us to a set of trees on either side of the walkway leading to the entrance of the high school. The butterfly flew up into the branches of this tree. When it came back down, it was followed by an entire swarm of them, at least a hundred!

These butterflies continued to lead us around the building, until we got to the parking lot around the corner. They all rested on a motorcycle parked right by a door into the school.

From this door, another pair of butterflies struggling with a jingling package flew out. They flew right into my hand and dropped off a set of keys. These were no ordinary butterflies. "Never have there been any records of such extremely arcane behaviors in any known species of moth or butterfly," Mark complimented.

However, I couldn't object despite the fact that I didn't understand it at that point. I gripped the keys and made my way towards the bike. It was a strange one with only one wheel in the back. The size of the motor could only be described by my limited knowledge of cars as a V800. There was also a passenger's seat attached next to the main driver's seat with an anti-gravity coil attached to its underside, most likely the only source of lift for the front end of it.

A pair of helmets rested on the plush, leather passenger's seat. I reached for one of the helmets, and the butterflies dispersed. I tossed this helmet to Mark. I grabbed the other one and put it on my head. Mark took a seat in the passenger's seat as I straddled the driver's, the butterflies scattering as we did so. I handed the scythe to Mark and gripped the handlebars with one hand, inserting the key into the slot with the other.

I gave the key a quick twist, and the engine roared to life. It was so loud a person a mile away could have mistaken it for a dragon's roar. However, this spike in volume quickly declined, becoming a dull purr in a matter of seconds. I gave the handlebars a rev, and the volume spiked up again.

I was about to throttle out of the parking lot when the door the butterflies came out of was blown off its hinges. Mark instinctively gripped the scythe tighter as I gripped the handlebars, both of us awaiting the appearance of a zombie. Instead, Garrett ran out. His MG-36 was still in his hands, the barrel smoking like a politician's cigar. His psychotic smile was clearly displayed across his face and his eyes shone behind his glasses. Someone had fun in there.

I shook my head and waved him over to us. He gladly ran over and squished himself next to Mark. With a rev of the engine and a floor of the gas pedal, we raced out of the parking lot and away from the school.

When we got to the intersection leading onto Northway Road, the butterflies appeared before us. They flew in a circular pattern and formed into an arrow pointing to the left.

This action perplexed me further. "Should we follow the butterflies?" I asked my comrades.

"Why not?" Mark replied. "These are rather intelligent butterflies, almost as much as I. I say we go for it."

"My sentiments exactly."

"Mine, too." The vote was unanimous. I eased the bike around the corner and throttled out of sight of the school.


	3. City Squabbles

Chapter III: City Squabbles

**Chapter ****III****: City Squabbles**

We continued to follow the butterflies through the suburb. The traffic was non-existent, and half of the houses were scarred or completely demolished. An eerie stillness now loomed over this once-bustling metropolis. Even the sun hid his face from this gruesome scene behind a thick vale of clouds. It felt like riding through a graveyard, although there was more truth in that than we thought.

We drove onto the intersection the butterflies pointed out, thankful to leave the carnage behind us. Little did we know of the desolation we were about to come upon within the shattered remains of our fair city.

As we raced under the pedestrian bridge, a chill ran up my spine. Something sinister was working from here. Its eyes were watching us approach its lair, like cows to the slaughter. This was the leader of the zombie attack's lair; I could feel it.

But how I knew this was still a mystery. I looked up at our tour guide through this dead city, and my suspicions grew. I didn't want to reveal my suspicions to my comrades prematurely, so we continued onward down the road.

The bike ran down a ramp leading into the corner of the city at the butterflies' guidance. The city was an even bigger dump than the suburb was. Cars were rolled over, completely mutilated, thrown through the windows of different office buildings, or any combination of these fates. There wasn't a single building over two stories, and none of them had roofs on them. Corpses littered the sidewalks and streets, some even hanging out of windows. The whole place was painted with blood-red streaks and splotches.

"What the hell happened _here_?" Garrett asked, scouring the landscape.

"This is where those zombies attacked, if anywhere," I replied.

Mark looked around, obviously flabbergasted. "This looks like a hurricane came through here!"

I nodded at this and added, "And it's what the rest of the world will look like-"

"Unless we stop it here and now."

"Fat chance, boys," Suzaku said tauntingly but softly out the window. His soft gaze was fixated on the bike weaving through the streets. He was happy to see the butterflies leading it through the maze of mayhem. "Especially with _her_ leading you."

He beckoned for Murugu to come to him. "You see that bike-load of visitors?" he said to her, pointing to the streets. "Send the skeleton riders to intercept it, just in case."

"By your command," she replied with a bow as she flew out of the room.

We passed the shattered remains of the library, an easily identifiable landmark, still breezing through the city. The end of this "follow-the-leader" game was nowhere in sight, and we were getting restless. And hungry.

"Mike, can you turn off your stomach? It's so loud that I can hear it over the roar of the engine!"

"I can't help it, Garrett. I always get hungry on car trips."

"Technically, this is a motorcycle; but I'm not complaining."

The butterflies pointed down the street to our right. I turned the handlebars in order to follow them, but we hit a thick splotch of blood in the road. We skidded in mid-turn, bypassing the street. I instantly cut the throttle.

"This is what you get for driving with your stomach!" Garrett taunted with a laugh.

I angrily groaned and looked back at our missed turn. I could just see the last butterfly flitter around the corner, so we were alone; alone in a huge city with murderers around every corner as far as we knew. I didn't know how to turn this thing around and I wasn't sure of any shortcuts through the city. We were stuck.

I noticed something else back there. A pair of motorcycles were coming toward us, and neither looked friendly. One of them was a classic teenage biker with no helmet but long, straight, yellow locks on his head. The number 13 was clearly displayed on the side of his bike in the same exact ghastly green as his eyes. The rest of him was dressed in a faded gray jacket, as if from a black leather jacket. The other rider was completely made and dressed in bones, the bony clothing covered in deep-red blood. Even his motorcycle was made completely out of dark-gray bones, right down to the tires.

Out of surprise and fear, I turned on the motorcycle again with a jolt, realigned myself with the road, and floored the gas pedal. I revved the handlebars as we soared down the road. I had no clue where we were going, but anywhere was better than staying put.

As we shot around a ramp, I called to Garrett and told him, "Have some fun on these guys."

The psychotic smile crossed his lips, and he switched the MG-36 to full-automatic. "With pleasure."

"I thought so."

He turned around in his seat and tore off the drum he had on the shotgun, replacing it with a fresh one from his pocket. After checking the action of the gun, he took careful aim at the bony biker and fired a stream of shotgun bursts.

The biker read his movements as if reading a book. He slid to the right of the attack, the shotgun shrapnel passing harmlessly alongside him, except for a few stray bits that passed right through him. His toothy grin shone with gold and silver fillings.

Garrett frowned and told us, "That's why I prefer the burst-fire."

The skeleton took what looked like a bony pistol out of a holster attached to his hip, aimed, and fired. A dart made from a set of finger bones launched from the barrel, flying straight for the motorcycle's tire.

Thankfully, another blood spill got caught in the treads of the tire, being spun around and thrown into the air behind us. This thick blood caught the bony bullet in mid-air, even redirecting it so as to harmlessly stick in a crack in the pavement.

Okay, harmlessly wasn't the right word. The bullet had been planted right in front of the biker's skeletal tires, allowing absolutely no time to move out of the way. The bullet was caught up in the tire's workings and thrown into the main mechanics of the bike itself. It pierced several tubes before finally settling in the brake fluid container. The bike wobbled as its rider attempted to maintain control.

Garrett smiled again, taking careful aim with the MG-36 now in burst-fire mode. The biker was too preoccupied to dodge this one. Garrett knew this as well as I did. Out of excitement, Garrett let out a cackle and fired. The rounds literally tore apart the unsteady motorcycle, bone shattering and scraping across the street. Even the rider was thrown against the building next to him in pieces.

Garrett gave a whoop of joy as the bones screeched to a halt. However, he was quickly silenced again as a bullet whizzed over his head. Both he and Mark turned to where the bullet came from and looked right down the barrel of the other biker's pistol.

"Your luck's run out with Johnny 13," he roared to us over the roar of our engines. Another shot rang out to prove his point. This one pinged the back part of the motorcycle overhanging the tire.

The effect of this bullet was the same whether we were riding a motorcycle or a horse. We broke out in top speed, kicking up a humongous cloud of dust and spurts of blood. Johnny 13 was taken aback by this turn of events, but his surprise quickly turned to rage; he floored his gas pedal and raced off after us, gun blazing.

"I'm just glad he's not toting an HS-90," Garrett remarked. "It's only a D'Eagle if anything."

"A who? What kind of a gun is a deagle?" I asked from the cockpit. "I've never heard of it.

"D'Eagle's short for the standard-issue Desert Eagle handguns in the U.S. military. How this guy got a hold of one I'll never know."

"About how many shots could take one of us out?" I asked a slight bit impatiently as another bullet raced by my head.

"One, especially if he hits us square in the-" He froze mid-sentence and slumped forward. A bloody bullet hole had been drilled right into his neck at the base of the skull. Unlucky shot.

As I watched the MG-36 slip from his fingers, I could feel the color and worry drain right out of my eyes. A demonic hatred boiled in me like magma in a volcano. Seeing one of my only friends in this colossal deathtrap called Life was too much to handle. I ripped the shotgun from Garrett and aimed it right at Johnny 13. "_Your_ luck's run out this time, you undead mother-fucking bastard!!" I snarled as I released a full-auto volley. My rounds tore up pavement and asphalt like a dog in a bed of flowers.

Johnny 13 had no idea of my surprise attack. He tried to swerve out of the way of my attack, but my shrapnel frenzy chased him no matter where he ran off to. A blast of asphalt caught him off guard, stunning him for a second. I took this momentary opportunity and centered in on Johnny 13. I switched the gun to burst fire and launched a volley. The round shattered the windshield and tore off the biker's handlebars, sending it careening over the ghost biker's head. The rest passed right through him. I smiled as he fumbled with the controls, unable to steer or brake.

I was about to take another shot when Mark tugged at my shoulder. I turned to him, but he pointed down the road with a grim expression on his face. I completely turned around to a sight I really wasn't looking forward to: a turn was coming up fast! In a rush of motion and panic, I deposited the gun into the passenger's seat, took hold of the handle bars, and squeezed the brakes.

Nothing happened.

I squeezed them again, but all I heard was a gush of liquid and a splatter on the ground. Strangely, this sound was coming from behind me. I turned around again to face it and noticed a bluish liquid leaking from the back. I swore at our increasing misfortune: Johnny 13 had shot the brake fluid hose!

I didn't dare try to make the turn, for I might cause the bike to flip on itself, crushing us in our own vehicle. Personally, I wasn't planning to go down so indignantly.

Instead, I floored the gas pedal so that metal squealed on metal, the bike aiming straight for the wall lining the curve. We collided full into it in seconds, breaking the rock away and screaming like madmen. Johnny 13 had no choice but to follow our flight path straight for the tallest building left in the city due to his velocity and lack of steering or braking capabilities. Metal bit stone, glass shattered, and what was left of the building disappeared in a humongous infernal explosion.

Suzaku cackled as the smoke and flame leapt into the air at the edge of his new domain. He got up from his chair and grabbed his flute from a table. "That was entertaining for a while. Wouldn't you say so, Murugu?"

"Quite entertaining," the bird chirped in reply. "Like one of those action movies the humans are so fond of these days."

Suzaku rattled that thought in his psychotic brain. "Yes, definitely barbaric but not so much as the horror films. They make demons look like blood thirsty killers." He laughed again at this bit of truth and strolled towards the door.

"What should we do now?"

"I say we reap the benefits this town had to offer." Suzaku allowed his pet to fly out the door before he walked out and closed it.

Kurama dared a peek over the counter of the football concession stand he was forced to retreat to, only a short distance from the gym. All of the people he had attempted to rescue had been preyed upon and now lay slaughtered around the field, like how the pioneers used to treat buffalo. Only he was left, and he knew this fact very well. "All because of that bastard Suzaku," he huffed, his eyes gliding over the scene to make sure there were no guards.

Satisfied with the survey, he stepped over the counter and started to run down the length of the track surrounding the field itself. He reached into his pocket and took out a GPS. He checked his surroundings and coordinates on it and took out a walkie-talkie. "Yusuke, come in, Yusuke," he hastily said into it between breaths. "Code red situation. Bring Hiei to these coordinates…"


	4. Funhouse

**Chapter ****IV****: Funhouse**

"Okay, Mark, you can unhook the scythe now."

With a grunt and a heave, the blade of the scythe was loosened from the column of concrete holding up the overhead road. It had been a lucky save back there. If it weren't for the scythe and Mark's quick thinking, we would have been a part of that explosion as well as Johnny 13.

We bounced harmlessly off the road, the force of the fall being taken in by the bike's shock absorbers. That trick had bought us some time, but we were still lost in enemy territory.

That didn't mean we weren't allowed to enjoy our break in action. With a relaxed wheeze, I flopped onto the bike's handlebars. The past day's events were finally catching up to me, for I was utterly exhausted.

I even began to hallucinate, for the butterflies we had been following before those zombie bikers attacked rushed before my weary eyes. One even landed on my hand and phased through the skin. My eyes grew fuzzy with fatigue, blurring a figure that appeared before me before I passed out.

…

I could feel an icy chill brush up against my cheek. I was lying on a cold surface of some kind, cold and hard as a tombstone in winter. Even though my eyes were still closed, I could still tell that there was barely any light shining in the room if any at all. I slowly sat up on whatever I was laying on and rubbed my eyes. Blinking into the faint light, I looked around. The room was a stone cubical from a medieval castle, or at least it looked like it. A torch burned on the wall in front of me, and another still figure was laid out on a second slab of stone similar to the one I had been sleeping on next to the wall opposite mine.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice said from behind me. The voice was gentle, but it still froze me to the core. I hadn't expected any conscious company. I slowly turned around, to where the voice came from, and looked right into the face of a woman seated in a chair.

The woman smiled at my surprise and confusion and said, "Is that how you look at a lady, especially one that saved your life?"

I looked away from the woman, down towards my feet covered in a blanket. "I'm dreaming; I've got to be dreaming." I laid down again, but I smacked my head a little too hard. I quickly sat up, both of my hands racing towards the throbbing pain in my head.

"You're not dreaming, silly," the woman said with a chuckle. "You're really here."

"I realize that, now," I hissed as I rubbed my sore spot. "So, where is 'here,' anyway?"

The woman's jovial face grew darker. She sighed, looked down at her folded hands, and said, "The castle-to-be of a madman named Suzaku. I managed to get you to the basement of the old theatre where he's stationed at. It's awful. He's tricking the deceased to clean out the city in order to claim it as his own. He called them all upstairs, but I fear for them. This man has strange powers, powers he could use to curse them all or worse… He must be stopped."

"He will be. One way or another, he will be. This is my city, and I'll be the one to defend it. There are too many happy memories here for me to give them all up to some psychotic son-of-a-bitch."

The woman's jovial mood returned slightly, but she still looked sad. "I wish you the best of luck, but I still don't know how you're going to defeat him."

I looked at my fist, which was starting to glow the mysterious light blue. "I think I'll manage to find a way." I hopped off the bed and walked past the woman, grabbing hold of the scythe's handle as well as the doorknob.

Suddenly, a thought struck me. "I don't believe I caught your name miss…"

"Emily, my name's Emily."

I nodded sagely, turned the door handle, and disappeared into the black hallway. Emily continued to look after me until the door closed shut. "Be careful, my rescuer," she whispered into the bleak light of the room.

As I journeyed down this first corridor, I only had one thought shaking my brain: why did that Emily person only have one eye?

…

Suzaku stared out into the sea of decaying and spectral beings making up the bulk of his audience. All of the zombies had smiles stretching their rotting skin from ear to ear, for each one of them had a canister of blood in their laps. The ghosts, on the other hand, had their green amulets in their hands and barely a glimmer of happiness showing on their faces. Skulker and Desiree especially looked dismal, having almost accomplished their mission that day.

"My friends," Suzaku announced, "It brings me great pleasure to officially close this event, for you all have put in such a grand effort into it!" A hearty cackle erupted from the stands as weapons were waved in the air. "Now, to announce the winners of my grand contest. The undead who collected the most blood was: Me!"

As soon as this last word left his foul mouth, a set of bars rose out of the ground at the base of all the doors leading out of the room. A yellowish band of energy snaked its way from Suzaku's hands, ensnaring all of the dead present. Unable to move, much less escape the madman keeping them all there, the zombies and ghosts started a universal panic. Try as they might, their pleas fell on deaf ears and their efforts to escape their shackles proved useless.

Suzaku cackled as the yellow energy turned red. As soon as an undead came into contact with this red energy, he (or she) disintegrated until there was nothing left except either the blood canister or the useless green amulet. An entire room was destroyed within a minute, and the rest of them followed suit in under the next one.

Suzaku hopped down from the stage and walked over to one of the blood canisters sitting comfortably in one of the seats. He tore off the lid, dipped his hand in, and drank the sample. Suzaku smiled at its taste, lifted the container to his lips, and drank heavily. Some of it even dripped onto his clothes.

When he finished with this one, he threw the empty metal into the side wall, where it shattered into fragments. "Like I said, _I _gathered the most blood." His cackle echoed down every empty corridor that the theatre had to offer.

"Now, as for the winner of the possession contest… I should pay her a little, personal visit."

…

As I felt my way around the first bend through the empty hallway, I heard a dark, malicious laughter before me. My blood chilled and goose bumps raced up my spine. Whatever lay before me, it didn't play around. I pressed on, the only light in this section of the theater coming from the weird energy radiating from my hand.

"What kind of trick is this?" I asked myself as I stared at my glowing hand. I tried to concentrate on my hand, hopeful that something would reveal itself. Did it ever. Another of those enigmatic energy butterflies raced from my hand, flying on a straight course down the hallway. I quickly ran after this butterfly, for it was an even brighter source of light than my hand was now.

Doors passed me on either side of this twisting labyrinth, but they were too dark underneath for me to want to venture into them. Right now, I wanted to get to the main theater, where Suzaku hopefully was.

The corridor rose up an occasional set of stairs which the butterfly rose along with. I followed just as quickly, my scythe held at my side. As I concentrated my sights harder on the butterfly, the energy in my hand spread to the other one, even crawling up the length of the scythe shaft.

A familiar melody wafted through the halls, standing out clearly in the emptiness. I perked up my ears to listen to this soothingly attracting music. "So… dark and mysterious, and yet… so peacefully alluring." All concentration fell off the energy and the butterfly, and both faded from sight. I closed my eyes, allowing the music to guide me along my path. I stumbled on the stairs from time to time, but otherwise it was fine.

When the music was its loudest, I was in front of another of those wooden doors. This one looked newer, not even a year old, whereas the other ones looked like they had been there for centuries. I opened this door and found myself in a lit room.

Well, lit wasn't exactly the right word. The room was hidden behind a curtain, leaving only a meter's worth of floor between it and the wall. A pale light shone from underneath the curtain and from a crack right in front of me.

I pushed through the curtain and ended up on a stage. Torches burned all around the audience's seats, most of which were filled with strange but familiar metal canisters. In front of me, a figure was seated playing on an organ. The pianist's fingers were deftly moving from one side of the keyboard to the other, keeping up with the tune coming from the instrument. He was wearing a red garment overlapped by baggy white pants. His spiky blond hair was the shiniest thing in the room.

Suddenly, the pianist stood up from the organ and turned to me. His piercing red eyes studied me for a second before he sneered. "So, you come here before me, the cleverest human in this entire city, in an attempt to challenge my authority. I send you challenges to test your courage as well as your cunning that you so miraculously passed, but you have no hope of ever passing the final exam with I, Suzaku, as the teacher!"

Suzaku jumped back well over twenty feet to the technician's booth near the back of the theater. A yellow ball of energy encased his hands, and a blue energy encased mine. "So, _you're_ the bastard that's been causing all of the zombie trouble!" I hollered at Suzaku. "You don't seem like such a tough guy to me. Sure, you can jump far, but I don't see why so many people fear you."

I definitely hit my opponent below the belt on that one. "Your arrogance wears my patience and my kind hospitality thin. I could have ordered my zombies to attack your petty defense within my own castle at any time, but then I would have been bored for the rest of my stay here. So entertain me if you can!"

Suzaku threw the balls of energy in his fists at me. Entertaining someone like this would be harder than I thought. I held up the scythe defensively, and the first energy ball got skewered on the tip of the blade, the second one splintering the organ and vanishing without a trace. I grinned at my luck and swung the scythe. The energy ball flew off of the scythe, through the air, and splintered a part of the wooden booth surrounding Suzaku.

"Crafty as you are clever. Well, if it's a battle of old you want, I'll be happy to oblige!" The ball in Suzaku's other hand grew long and curved back slightly. Another ball in Suzaku's other hand grew long as well, but this one sprouted a tip on the end, a jagged tip that looked like it could rip through anything. He drew this energy arrow across the bow he made and took aim at me. A tomato right then would have been even more appropriate, and I wish he did have one.

The arrow flew through the air, but I was ready for it. I quickly dodged the arrow, swinging my scythe around. The enhanced blade of the scythe caught the shaft of the arrow long-ways, taking it on a round-about flight path. I released the arrow, throwing it back at Suzaku. I missed again, but I did take another chunk out of the booth.

Unfazed by this second redirection of his own attacks, Suzaku drew another arrow across his bow. This one he fired at me quickly, reloading it with yet another arrow not a split second later. This one he fired right alongside the first.

I looked upon both arrows with a sense of dread; I knew I couldn't work my trick on both of them. Instead, I leapt back until I hit the folds of the curtain. I stuck my hands out in a measly defense. I closed my eyes and looked away from the sight, awaiting doom.

I felt a slight pierce on my hands, but other than that, nothing. I opened one eye and looked at my hands and quickly opened the other one after it. The energy in my hands had caught the arrows! Suzaku looked stunned by this turn of events, but he didn't look half as surprised as when he saw me grab the arrows in mid-air, turn them around, and throw them both back at him at the same time! This time my aim came through, and the arrows collided into him at the same time. A huge explosion shook the booth, splintering what was left of it.

I ran up there to check on the damage. When I made my way to the splintered mass of wood, I sifted through it, looking for Suzaku's body. I tore the whole pile apart, but I didn't find anything! Suzaku had disappeared!

The sound of a flute coming from the stage stopped me cold. I slowly turned around and saw Suzaku on the stage - all seven of him.

"You thought one Suzaku was bad enough, didn't you?" one of them asked.

"Well how about taking on seven at once?" the other six added.

Now I saw it clearly: Suzaku battled with me using a clone that had evaporated when the arrows struck it. I now faced the real one, sevenfold in power and attacks. I was definitely outmatched, unless I could whip up another miracle.

Suzaku wasn't going to give me that chance. All of his clones along with the real one formed those energy spheres in their hands. It was like reliving dodge ball in gym class, except Kurama wasn't here to bail me out. No one was. I had to rely on the tricks I had used against the Suzaku clone, and even these would prove ineffective.

I felt a pang of nausea hit my head like the wall back at school all of a sudden. I turned around in embarrassment and reached for my head, dropping the scythe on the wood pile. The feeling in my brain worsened, bringing me to my knees and sapping me of my strength. It was even affecting the beating of my heart. "What's happening to me?" I groaned as my vision grew blurry. I looked behind me, and I saw the Suzakus throw their energy spheres. A mad cackle erupted through the theatre as the balls flew towards me. I was a dead man. With the last of my energy gone, I fell backward and waited for oblivion.

Strangely, the board in front of my head lifted up off the ground. Several other boards around me lifted as well. They flew to my feet and formed a wall. The energy spheres harmlessly bounced off of the wooden barricade and vanished. The boards were shielding me from Suzaku's attacks!

As wave after wave of attacks were repelled, I felt something alight on my back. With immeasurable effort, I rolled over onto my back, allowing the thing on my back to flutter off and alight again on my belly. I focused my eyes on this object, as it glowed with the same calming blue energy as the butterfly that had led me here to this deathtrap.

Were these butterflies a blessing or a curse?

This particular butterfly was a blessing. The blue energy that pulsated from it flowed onto me like melting candle wax, sinking into my exhausted flesh. As it did, I could feel my strength returning to me, the pain in my head dying away. It felt just as I had felt in the hallway of my school: peaceful, painless, and satisfying.

When I had enough energy back, I slowly sat up and scratched the back of my head. But it wasn't hair I felt; it was feathers. I reached back there with both of my hands and firmly grasped this feather duster and ripped it off of my head. I brought it around to my eyes to see what it was, only to find out that it was - a parrot?

The parrot grimaced in my hands and said, "Murugu want a cracker…"

I scowled in reply and told her, "Murugu _need_ a taste of cold steel!" I snatched up my scythe with one hand and pinched Murugu's wing with the other. She struggled to get away like a moth in the same exact position, but her efforts were useless. I wouldn't let go until she paid for my pains, inflicted on me by her bloody feet.

I held the scythe right below its blade and stabbed the bird through the heart. She let out one final trill before she dangled limply on my scythe blade. I almost felt sorry for it; a beautiful bird working for a boss like Suzaku. But I dismissed these thoughts and threw Murugu's carcass over the barricade.

When Suzaku saw Murugu fly over the barricade, at first he smiled. But, when he saw her flop onto the stage with a splatter of blood leak from the gash in her chest, he grew angrily horrified. All of the clones stopped firing their projectiles and gathered around the body of the bird. The real Suzaku nestled the bird in his arms. "Even in death your beauty shines," he told her. He gently laid her down on the stage and glared at me. All of his clones did likewise.

The boards that had formed the wall fell to the ground. Where a board had once floated, a butterfly now fluttered. They also fluttered out from behind the curtain in droves, passing the Suzaku septuplets and converging around me. They flew around each other, producing a white light as their flight pattern grew more congested. Within this light the butterflies' shapes blurred together. A new shape formed altogether within the light, the color returning as the light faded. I staggered back, surprised to see who now stood before me. It was Emily!

Something was different about her, though. Her calm smile was replaced by an angry scowl, and her eye was fixed on Suzaku. Her fists were clenched tight; I could hear and see the knuckles crack in her skeletal arm. She held out this arm, hand opened. My right arm had a slight spasm, and yet another butterfly flew out of my palm and into Emily's hand. "You're welcome for the rental," she whispered to me. The butterfly glowed white as soon as she said this, and it morphed into a round sphere. When the color returned to it, the sphere had become an eye! Emily turned away from me and popped the eye back into place with a squeak.

Suzaku was just as surprised by this as I was. "Emily!" he called to her. "Why are you helping that mortal? He's the enemy!"

Emily turned towards Suzaku and replied, "If you ever had a heart, you'd know."

Suzaku chuckled at this comment. "I did have a heart, once," he said. "One of the finest meals I ever had." His six clones busted up laughing at his joke. "Jokes aside, wench…" he jumped clear from the stage to the shattered maintenance booth to my horror and gripped Emily around the throat, lifting her up single-handedly. All of the Suzaku clones leapt up to join the original, surrounding the three of us. "…you should never have crossed paths with me, for I have control over everything, including death!"

As his grip on her throat tightened, she desperately tried to pull his hand free of her. But, his grip was just too powerful. He laughed at her futile attempts. As she struggled, she gasped, "Do what you want to me; just don't harm _him_."

My eyes were opened to the truth by this statement. This mysterious Emily woman's intentions throughout my adventure - the trail of butterflies, the healings, the lending of that arcane energy, the tending to our wounds in the back corridor, the defensive actions, and now this - proved only one thing: she was in love with me! She had done so much for me; I had to do something for her now.

Since all of the Suzakus had their attention fixed on Emily and her captor's spectacle, I managed to sneak right behind the real Suzaku unnoticed. Emily did notice me and immediately figured out what I was planning. I positioned the scythe behind Suzaku on the ground and winked at her. In reply, she kicked Suzaku in the stomach with both of her feet. The shock that she actually attacked him forced his hand to release her, and the force of the kick itself sent him falling backwards - right onto my scythe blade. I heard several ribs crack as the blade sliced through organs and skin tissues. The part that stuck out was covered in glistening deep-red blood as red as the blood streaming into a puddle around him. All of Suzaku's clones were thunderstruck.

I got up off the ground as if nothing had happened and dusted myself off. I turned to Emily and gave away a smile, despite still being in the midst of the clones. She returned it just as happily.

However, when she looked down at my feet, her face grew horrified. Strangely, I felt something around my ankle. The Suzakus around me started to chuckle. Curiously, I looked down to inspect it, but I wish I hadn't. My face grew just as horrified as Emily's as I realized the grim truth: it was Suzaku's bloody hand gripping my ankle! His grip tightened as we locked eyes, those blood-red eyes almost searing my cool blue ones. He revealed a smile with most of his teeth dripping with blood.

He spat some of this blood into the wood pile and said, "Did you honestly think that you could kill me with such a pathetic attempt?" He gave my ankle a final splitting squeeze that brought me to my knees before he stood up. One of the clones tore the scythe out of his back as he said, "Like I said before, I control death in this domain of mine. And that includes yours!" His fist lit up with the yellow energy again.

Sensing what was about to happen, Emily rushed between us, outstretching her arms to protect me. "Don't even think about touching him," she told Suzaku.

Suzaku sneered and spat some more blood into the wood pile. "And what are _you _going to do to stop me?" Without waiting for a reply, he punched her solidly in an uppercut with his energized hand. The other Suzakus made room for her to be sent sailing onto the stage, causing a squealing sound as she skidded across the waxed wood.

Suzaku turned his attention back to me, as did all the others. My ankle still hurt, and even if it weren't broken I still wouldn't have been able to escape with the Suzaku clones closing in around me. The original Suzaku's eyes were fixated on me, but I refused to look into them. It was a hopeless situation, with me undefended without even a weapon for company and everyone who could help me being either dead or unconscious. A tear welled up in my eye as I accepted the now completely and undeniably inevitable end.

As Suzaku pulled back his fist for the fatal delivery, Emily groaned and propped herself up on her arm, holding her head with the other. She looked back to the Suzakus and caught the main one halfway in the act. "Please! No!" she pleaded, but her words fell on deaf ears. Suzaku followed through with his attack, plowing his fist in an uppercut right under my ribcage.

I let out a scream of pain, fear, and sorrow as I flew upward and out of the back wall of the theatre with a splatter of blood. Horrified by the sight, Emily ran back through the curtain and back down the dark corridor, weeping the whole way.

…

As I flew into the open night air, still on a ruler-straight flight path, I crashed into something. Despite the repercussion that I felt, I was actually hopeful; I could _feel _myself hit something! Despite the savage attack and the pain I had endured, had I survived? As I hung onto the object I crashed into, I looked back at the theatre. To my surprise, I hadn't left a hole in the wall. What was going on?

"Could you get off my ride? I have a lot of business to take care of tonight."

I looked up at who was speaking and looked right into the glowing red eyes of the Grim Reaper! I really was dead!

"Seriously, off the scythe. I haven't had this much business since 9/11, and you're holding me up."

I looked down at the street below me and sheepishly looked back up at him. "Will I fall?"

"Why should you care?" he replied, slightly aggravated. "You're a ghost; you're dead. Now leave me alone."

"Let me handle this," another voice said. The Grim Reaper turned behind himself as I followed his gaze. Both of us caught sight of a second figure flying towards us from downtown. When she got closer, we both saw that she was a very young woman, early twenties/late teens, with light-blue hair and a pink kimono on. Instead of riding on a scythe like the Grim Reaper, this person (or spirit, ghost… whatever) rode on a long oar. "You never were great with kids."

"What are you doing on my turf, Botan?" the Reaper demanded of our guest. "I thought you only took care of those on the Eastern Hemisphere."

"Yes, but Koenma sent me here on a special assignment." She pointed right at me and said, "And he's it."

The Grim Reaper sniggered. "As long as you take him off my hands (as well as my scythe), I'll forgive you for this intrusion." He glared at me with his red eyes from underneath his midnight black hood.

"Okay then, Michael, time to go." Botan pulled up her oar right under me. I let go of the Grim Reaper's scythe and dropped onto Botan's oar, right behind the pilot. We flew off as soon as I was situated, disappearing into the maze of buildings and leaving the Reaper to his work.

As we weaved through the debris- and blood-covered wreckage of the city like a river through a canyon, I posed a question to Botan: "Who is this Koenma?"

Without looking away from her course she replied, "You'll see soon enough. We're going to see him soon. The portal to Spirit World is just up ahead."

"The portal to where?"

…

Suzaku took his hand out of my chest and licked some of the blood off of it. "I don't know about you," he told his sniggering clones, "but blood always tastes better fresh and when you're the killer." They all gave another hearty laugh at this.

"What do you think we should do with him now?" one of the clones asked.

Suzaku smiled a wicked and conceited smile and replied, "Why don't we just drain the rest of his blood and use his head for kickball?"

"Using a head for kickball? I'm okay with that."

All of the Suzakus looked around, startled by this uninvited voice. "Who are you? Show yourself!"

"Well, if you insist!" A figure dropped down from the sky lighting and stomped right on Suzaku's face, plowing it straight into the cement platform. The intruder continued his attack by delivering a roundhouse kick to the rest of the clones. The intruder leapt back and sat back in one of the theatre seats.

Suzaku stood up with his hand on his face; blood dripped between his fingers. With his unwounded eye, he glared at his intruder and screamed, "You!"

The intruder smiled and ran his hand through his straight, jet-black hair. "Well, Suzaku, you sure seem to remember me."

"How could I not remember you, you smug little bastard? You foiled my plans to take over Human World almost two years ago; and now you face me again, Yusuke Yuromeshi."

"Hey, duty calls. But I'm always open for a rematch with a has-been demon like you. By the way, where are all of your pals from before? I thought that if you had returned then they wouldn't be far behind; I even invited a few of my friends over to enjoy some kind of party together."

As if on cue, three of the Suzaku clones still suffering from the roundhouse kick were sliced in half, disappearing in a puff of smoke. The other three followed suit, this time being pierced through the heart. In a blink of an eye, two other figures stood beside Yusuke, one about two-thirds his height with the same color hair and a sleek black robe on. A white headband was wrapped around his forehead with his black spiky hair hanging over it. The other one was just as tall as Yusuke with a pink jumpsuit on and pinkish-red hair; Kurama.

The shortest of the three looked up at Yusuke and said, "You humans speak too much; I almost fell asleep through your little speech."

Kurama glared at him through the corner of his eye and said, "Quiet, Hiei, we're in the middle of something here."

Suzaku looked at all three of them, reminiscing how easily he had been defeated last time and how _not_ to make a repeat performance. "Well, Yusuke," he said, "it seems that you caught me off guard. Allow me some time to give you a proper fight, along with those friends of mine you want to see so badly." He backed off from the three of them, leapt backwards towards the stage, and vanished in a blur.

Kurama smiled and sighed, "Now that he's gone, let's tend to the matter at hand." He turned towards my corpse and started to inspect the wounds. After checking a blood sample, he concluded, "This blood is still warm; not even dead for fifteen minutes. We may be able to save him if we hurry."

All three of them looked down at my lifeless, ragged body. "Tell me again why we're about to help this worthless bastard," Hiei complained, an angry scowl laid across his face.

Kurama was just as scornful in his glare at him. "Apparently, you have learned little of Demon World lore on your travels. This boy plays an important role in the balance of power in Demon World, one that reaches almost as far back as the divisions of the three kingdoms."

Kurama sat back against the cushion of the theatre seat, closed his eyes, and folded his arms across his chest. He took a deep breath and began his tale. "Long ago, before any of us were even born, there lived a demon, an incredibly powerful A Class demon by the name of Sakurayo with unrivaled power, power that has never been matched before or after. He slew every demon within a kilometer of him just by approaching them. It was a special species of demon energy requiring immense training, taking up over one-thousand years, which overloaded its victims as long as they possessed any demon energy within them. Only special shields kept out this special demon energy. Any demon that could penetrate his energy deathtrap was quickly dispatched by his legendary phantom blade, known as Soul Edge. It was only through the combined efforts of Mukuro, Raizen, and Yomi that could bring the demon to his knees and imprison him within an amulet; it is because of this combined effort that the three grew jealous of each other and caused the eventual division of their empires.

"This amulet eventually made it into the Human World, where a man by the name of Genghis Khan discovered it. Sakurayo possessed Genghis Khan through the amulet, driving him mad with power. He ravaged much of the mainland from Yusuke's current home, but the Chinese defeated him and the amulet was lost.

"Almost two millennia later, a man known as Adolph Hitler discovered the amulet. It drove him mad with power as well, resulting in the infamous World War II. The amulet was lost after that, but Sakurayo swore that his sign would reveal the next person destined to wield the amulet."

"And you said that _humans_ talk too much, Hiei," Yusuke joked.

"Just tell us what the sign is," Hiei grumbled impatiently.

"A rose on the sole of the foot."

Hiei smirked at this comment. "Sign of an ancient accomplice, Kurama?"

"Nothing of the sort. I was always with Yomi, no one else."

"So what does the rose have to do with this guy?" Yusuke asked as he nudged my foot.

"Watch and learn." Kurama bent down and took off my shoe. He wrinkled his nose as he took off my sock, although I would have smiled if I were conscious. He pointed to the bottom of my foot, where a black-petaled rose was clearly tattooed, the stem curling down the curve of the sole.

Yusuke was perplexed. "How did you find out about this?"

"I was an exchange student sent here by the Spirit World to investigate a strange disturbance in the Order from last year. This boy was where a strange energy presence led me, and was also in the school I went to. We even shared the same gym class. The rest should explain itself."

Hiei was getting impatient. "Enough of the bedtime stories. Now let's wake up this dead weight before he starts to decay." He held up a fist, and it glowed with a turquoise flame.

"Oh, if we're getting physical with it…" Yusuke held up a fist of his own that also shone a light blue. "Care to join us, Kurama?"

Kurama sternly shook his head. "That wouldn't be wise, Yusuke; you of all people should know that!" he angrily hissed.

The flame on Hiei's hand was replaced by a fire in his red eyes. "Well, if you don't want us to do things the fun way, what _do_ you suggest?"

"We take him to Koenma."


	5. Resurrection

**Chapter ****V****: Resurrection**

I sat in a plush chair in a large oriental-style palace room. Several seats were positioned along the wall to my left or right, but none of them were filled. As I looked around, my gaze occasionally catching the clock, I pondered what this Koenma person would be like. He would have had to be rich in order to have afforded a place like this, let alone pay for its upkeep. Beyond the door to the left of the clock I could still make out the sound of the hustle and bustle of workers doing who-knows-what.

This door was opened, and Botan stuck her head through the door. "Sorry for the intrusion, but would you like another room? I know that this one is rather-"

"Yes, a change of scenery would be nice," I interrupted. I got up from the chair and followed her out the door, back into that ocean of noise. Between the maddening noise of phones ringing, papers rustling, keyboards clacking, and all of the other normal sounds of an office, I almost wished that I was back with Suzaku. Almost.

Eventually we diverted our path from along the office cubicles to a hallway; I was extremely thankful for this. As I was led down this hallway, the lights grew dimmer, the din of the office becoming a faint echo. As we got closer to a door on the opposite end of the hall, I could feel a chill run down the length of my spine. It was like the feeling of walking into a graveyard on a cold, foggy night. Botan shivered, but continued to lead me down the hall. "I never really liked coming down here to these graveyard suites," she told me. I fully agreed with her.

I could hear the faint melody of a piano being played; its music was definitely more relaxing than the draft blowing from the doors on either side of us. However, the music sounded sad, almost longing for something in these haunted hallways. As we got to the door from which this music wafted, Botan laid a hand on the doorknob and slowly opened it. The door creaked softly on its hinges. She ushered me inside and slowly shut the door.

The room seemed more like a crypt than a room in a luxurious house like I was expecting when I first entered the hallway. The only lighting in this room was a pair of candles hanging on the wall and dimly flickering on either side of a piano. A person was seated at the piano, and a bouquet of flowers rested on the top of it. The person seated at it stood straight up in her seat, but her head was weakly hung on her shoulders. Her light blue fingers lazily but expertly drifted across the keys, every note echoing in the silence of the chamber. Her blue hair draped down sadly with a white bridal veil on it like a rug on a clothesline in a rainstorm.

The notes she played clutched at my chest, right where my heart would have been. I walked over to this pianist, being careful not to interrupt her concert. I couldn't help but smile, though. She was playing so beautifully, and she was barely trying. I was right behind her when she stopped playing abruptly. I halted dead in my tracks, caught off guard. "You think I couldn't hear you?" she said. I didn't reply. Instead, she continued. "I heard the door squeak as you entered."

She sighed and turned to the side, gazing at the lit candle by the piano. "Ah, well, I guess I could use some company, whoever you are. Botan brought you here, didn't she?" I still didn't reply, and neither did she look at me. "She was scheduled to bring me here too, almost two hundred years ago. I had just died in a town on the other side of the forest from London. I was planning to escape there as soon as I was married.

"However, my romance (as well as my life) was cut short by my murderous husband-to-be. When Botan came to pick me up, I refused her offer to go, vowing a fairy-tale's ending for me: only my true love could set me free. Botan agreed to this, mostly because she was swamped with people dying of the Black Plague."

Her voice gained a slight bit of cheer as she began the next part of her story. "My vow was fulfilled when a man by the name of Victor van Dolt said his vows to me. Unfortunately, that union was also a disaster. He was already betrothed to someone else, causing an entirely complicated mess. My evil husband-to-be also got mixed up in this Bermuda Triangle as well. He eventually got what he deserved, but I decided to leave there for a new afterlife in America. There were too many happy memories that I couldn't relive there. Or so I thought.

"I lived in the northern part of the states at that time. My peace was shattered when I was kidnapped and sent to Pennsylvania as part of some ridiculous experimental machine. I thought that I would be a slave forever, until someone else rescued me. That someone was a boy, only twelve or so, but he defeated my captors and eventually destroyed their base. I almost immediately fell in love. Hey, third time's the charm right?"

She chuckled slightly at her own joke, but her demeanor quickly shifted back into misery. "Anyway, I watched over him for almost a year before today. That's when a demon named Suzaku amassed a huge army of the dead refugees and attacked the city where the boy lived. I did my best to lead the boy to Suzaku and aided him as he fought the demon, but even he wasn't powerful enough to stop Suzaku, even with my aid. He was killed at the demon's hands; I fled before I learned what the fate of his corpse was. Botan came to me again, and I agreed to go with her this time. My heart could only take so much, especially after three disasters like those." A tear formed in her eyes and fell to the cold stone floor.

I took up the seat next to her and laid my hand on her shoulder. "I know just how you feel; I got separated from a loved one, too."

She sniffed and turned towards me. "Really? Who was it?" she froze as soon as she saw my face. Her eyes grew wide as she looked upon my face. A smile curled the ends of her lips, as did the ends of mine. "Michael? Is that you?"

I nodded 'yes' and said, "It was you, Emily, that I was separated from. Ever since you showed me your compassion, throwing yourself in harm's way to try to save my life, I decided then that I should return that love to you. However, I was planning on growing up a little more first."

Emily chuckled again, this time in genuine happiness.

…

"So, how do you suggest we get to Spirit world to deliver this sack of garbage?" Hiei asked. He picked up the scythe off of the ground and licked the blood off of the blade.

Kurama hoisted my bleeding body over his shoulder and replied, "We find the portal back there."

"How do you know that there is one, Kurama?" Yusuke asked.

"Because there are so many dead people. Botan and the Grim Reaper are bound to be competing for their paychecks here."

Yusuke looked confused again and scratched his head. "I thought that Botan _was_ the Grim Reaper."

Hiei sighed and replied, "Only on your half of the planet, like in Asia, Africa, and Europe. The Americas are dominated by the actual Grim Reaper. You know, with the hooded robe, the scythe, and the skeletal body and all that."

Yusuke glared at him, obviously annoyed at the insult to his intellect. He turned to Kurama again and asked, "So how do we find the Grim Reaper?"

"He's bound to show up sometime in a place with as much death as this. All we have to do is find him." Kurama hopped down the stairs. Hiei and Yusuke followed after him out of the theatre.

When they got outside, they all looked around in different directions. "Remember, you guys," Yusuke instructed, "Suzaku is still at large, and we have no idea where he might be hiding. Stay on your guard and try to subdue the Reaper if you do see him."

The other two nodded their apprehension, all of them separating into three groups and running through the city at top speed.

It took them less than a minute to comb the entire city before they met up back at the entrance to the theatre. None of them found the Grim Reaper.

"Well, seeking him out didn't work," Yusuke muttered.

"What we need is for him to seek us out."

"And how do you intend to do that?" Hiei asked.

Kurama smirked and laid my body down on the ground right in the middle of the street in front of the theatre. He beckoned them to follow him back into the theatre. They both obeyed, all three sets of eyes watching the body.

They waited for about a minute to come before a figure dressed all in black and riding a scythe flew in next to the bait. The figure got off of the scythe and stooped next to the body. The figure immediately jumped to his feet in shock and disgust, shouting, "What matter of outrage is this? I already took care of this body!"

He turned around, but he found his scythe missing. He looked all around for it, his red eyes getting redder by the second. His eyes finally rested on Hiei, who was now standing in front of him with two scythes in his hands. Kurama and Yusuke walked out of the theatre and confronted the Reaper.

"What do you three want?" he asked them.

"Take us to your portal to Spirit World," Hiei demanded.

The Grim Reaper looked down on him, sniggered, and asked, "Now why would I want to do that, small fry?"

Hiei frowned and replied, "Because if you don't I'll snap your scythe in two, and I don't just mean the shaft."

"Ooh, tough guy. Okay, I'll show you where the portal is. Quite frankly, I'm done with my shift here anyway." He held out a bony hand from his robe, and Hiei grudgingly gave up the scythe. Using it as a walking stick, he started to hike up the street. Hiei picked up my body as he, Yusuke, and Kurama followed.

As they hiked behind the Reaper, Kurama asked, "What do you mean you've already worked on this body?"

"Like I said, I already reaped that spirit; at least, Botan did. She came here not too long ago and picked up this guy's spirit. She said something about a special assignment she was on, picked him up, and left. She came back on a second round to pick up one of those damned zombie rebellious."

Yusuke was really stumped on this one. "A zombie what?"

"A zombie _rebellious_. They're living corpses of people, mainly from the time of the Late Renaissance. Most of them were Botan's fault, especially in one town around London. There used to be a whole city of them beneath the town before Koenma sent me throughout Europe to bring back all of these zombies. Botan was such a slacker back then."

They continued to hike up the street, until they got under the covers of the trees mixed into the suburbs. They continued to hike until they got to the top of a small hill, where another street intersected the one they were on. The Grim Reaper led them down this new street to the east about a fourth of a mile before they took another turn up a steeper hill. At the top of this one they came to a retirement home. A swirling yellow vortex lay active right next to the brick entryway of this building.

"Everyone inside," the Reaper commanded. "This portal takes us straight to Spirit World. I would have made it closer, except my original assignment was a little old lady who bit the dust."

Yusuke and Kurama leapt through the portal near automatically, but Hiei stayed behind a second. He turned his head and drank deeply from the blood leaking onto his shoulder. He wiped his mouth off and jumped into the portal. The Grim Reaper followed closely behind, the portal sealing up behind him.

…

"WHAT!? You're telling me Kurama and Hiei are coming back _here_!?"

"Yes, Prince Koenma, sir. They are expected here within the minute."

Koenma cringed in his swivel chair and turned it around, crossing his small hands. "What business could _both_ of them have here? I understand Kurama, but Hiei? He hasn't come here since his theft of the spirit items."

"Why don't you ask us yourself?"

Koenma froze on the spot, his eyes left wide. His pacifier dropped to the floor. He slowly turned around, meeting Hiei's red eyes with his scared brown ones. Hiei still had my body slung over his shoulder, the blood from my wound leaking down his side. A blood stain was also leaking from Hiei's lips.

Kurama stepped out from the hallway leading into the office, as did Yusuke. Koenma breathed a sigh of relief and asked, "What business do you have with me?"

Hiei dropped my body onto the desk situated in front of Koenma. "We need a complete healing for this deadweight, pronto."

Koenma studied the body carefully and asked, "Is this the body of Michael Heilmann?"

"As far as we can guess," Yusuke replied. "But I don't understand something. Why, if this boy's the next host for a super powerful demon, don't we just leave him for dead and end the line of the demon's possession victims?"

Koenma picked up his pacifier and handed it to his assistant. "I'm glad you asked that, Yusuke," he replied. "You see, the curse that the three demon kings put on Sakurayo lasts only as long as he possesses a human through it every thousand years or so. Even though he's been revealing his victims earlier and earlier, we must appease his requests or he'll be released."

"Oh."

At that moment, Botan walked through the door to Koenma's office. "Hello, everyone," she said, her eyes drifting around the room at all the guests.

"Botan, please fetch Michael Heilmann," Koenma said to her.

Botan's sweet face soured at this order. "But I just took him down to the-"

"Now. We need to do this ritual quickly. I'll heal up the body while you go fetch him."

"Okay," she grumbled. She walked back out of the door and back down the hallway. She ran past the office employees' cubicles and quickly ducked into the second hallway leading to the graveyard suites. She sprinted down this hallway at top speed, half out of anger, and half out of fear of the hallway itself.

As she approached the final door, the sound of piano music filled her ears. This music wasn't the same music she had heard before when she had escorted me this way. This music was happier, more lively. Curiously, she opened the door a crack and peeked inside. There, at the piano, she saw two pianists. Their fingers danced across the keys like figure skaters across ice. They were in perfect synch with each other, their music filling the room and flooding into the hallway.

When they finished their current piece, the two pianists turned and faced each other, smiling at each other. Botan instantly recognized them, even in the dim light. "Are those Michael and Emily?" she whispered to herself. She continued to watch and see what unfolded.

…

I looked into Emily's eyes, took her hands in mine, and said, "You play beautifully, my dear."

"You play debonairly as well," she replied, "for a beginner." We both had a kind laugh at this final comment.

I heard a small noise and abruptly stood up from the piano, turned towards the door, and said, "We can hear you, you know; so what do you want from us now?"

She nervously tensed and fully opened the door. She cleared her throat and announced, "Prince Koenma wishes to see you now, Michael."

"Oh, does he now?" I asked as I walked towards the door. Before I exited the room, I turned to Emily and said, "I'll be back, Emily. Just wait here."

She nodded with a smile and sat back down on the piano bench. I exited the door, not quite closing it all the way but leaving a little crack of light. The piano music started again, the tune just as happy as it was a few seconds ago.

I followed Botan down the hall, around the employee cubicles, and back to Koenma's office. As soon as I stepped through the doorway, all eyes turned on me. I got a little skittish as I looked around the room. All of these guys looked bigger than and unfamiliar to me. However, when I saw Kurama, my demeanor calmed. I stood a little straighter and walked into the midst of the group, my eyes still nervously sweeping around the room and studying these two new friends of Kurama.

"Nice of you to join us, Michael."

"Nice to know I'm needed, but by who?" I looked around at the people in the room and asked, "Which one of you is Koenma?"

I heard a throat cleared at the desk in front of me. A teenage voice followed it up. "That would be me."

I crossed through the group to the front desk. Seated in the swivel chair at the desk was a toddler with a pacifier in his mouth and wearing a large round hat almost twice the size of his head. The toddler's clothes were a mix between regular blue and baby blue. He looked up at me with calm brown eyes as I looked back down at him, my face half hysterical. "Okay, kid, where's your father? Is he off on business or-?"

The toddler forcibly gripped the collar of my shirt and dragged me down to his eye level. "Listen here, wise guy," the toddler angrily snapped, "I _am _Koenma, and just because I look like a baby doesn't mean that you can talk to me like one! I've already had to deal with him-" he pointed to one of Kurama's companions, the taller one with the black hair "-and I don't want to have to deal with you!" He released his grip on me, allowing me to stand up again.

I angrily snorted and retorted, "Well, excuse me."

Koenma sighed and folded his hands. "I've repaired the damage to your body," he said. "If you want to return to Living World, I just need one final preparation: the breath of life."

Kurama stepped forward from the group and asked, "You mean CPR?"

"Precisely. In a case like this, it would usually be someone who really wants him back-" I raised a hand to offer a suggestion, but Koenma dismissed it sternly. "-_who is alive_, but in light of the current circumstances, we'll have to make due."

Kurama's companion that Koenma had pointed to earlier cringed when he said this. "You mean one of us has to do it?"

"Yes, Yusuke. It has to be you, Hiei, or Kurama. That is, as long as you want to have a home to return to one of these days. You three can decide amongst yourselves who it's going to be." Koenma turned his swivel chair around to settle the matter, grinning slightly.

Yusuke and Hiei turned a slightly sickly shade of green as they looked at my body straightened out on the desk. Kurama shot them both a glare and brought my body to the floor. "No need for you two to be so rude. This isn't Kuwabara we're dealing with."

Hiei scowled and replied, "Not exactly, but he's close enough."

I scowled and snorted again, my eyes downcast at my feet. "My future is in the hands of those two wimps? I can't believe it."

Yusuke glared at me now, reddish rage lighting up his eyes. His fists tightened as he said, "What was that, punk?"

I lifted my eyes up to him and replied, "You heard me. If any of you are afraid to do it, I'll enjoy watching your asses get kicked as you try to tangle with that demon."

Yusuke growled, but he turned to his companions and said "Let's settle this with Punch-Chop-Kick. Loser has to bring that punk back from the dead."

"Agreed."

I sat on the desk as I looked over the game. It went pretty much the same way as Rock-Paper-Scissors as far as I knew, except it went by a different name. Yusuke and Kurama both stuck out a hand intended to do a karate chop, but Hiei stuck out a fist.

Kurama grimaced and said, "Sorry, Hiei, but chops beat fist."

Hiei grumbled and bent to one knee. He turned to me and growled, "If you even dare to show a trickle of a smile, I'll make sure that you don't have a body to return to."

I gnashed my teeth at him and spat, "Are you inferring that I'm one of those goddamned fags? Truth-be-told, I already have a girlfriend and think that fag-fuckers should go to hell."

"That would be down the hall to your right, if you're wondering," Koenma piped up from behind his chair.

Hiei stifled a burp and muttered, "I knew that last drink would come back to haunt me, and in more ways than one." He bent low over my body and pressed his bloody lips to my undead ones. After giving one rescue breath, he quickly stood up, regaining a serious composure. Yusuke chuckled slightly, but Kurama elbowed him in the side.

My body coursed with a golden light. I looked upon it with awe, and at the same time determination. 'Okay, this is now, or never,' I thought to myself. I stuck my hand into my body's hand, my spirit phasing into the skin. I laid myself over my body, making sure to align everything perfectly. I slowly sank down to the floor, my spirit continuing to dissolve in the folds of my clothes and my skin.

When I was completely in one piece, my eyes fluttered open and looked around the room. I got up off of the floor, but I instantly collapsed onto the desk. My hands instantly clasped around my stomach. "Does this place have anything to eat? I feel like I'm practically starving to death!"

Koenma swiveled around, giggling in spite of himself. "I expected as much. Being without food for nearly twelve hours does take a toll on one's appetite. Luckily, I have a little something here for you." He bent beneath his desk and came back up with a steaming loaf of garlic bread. My eyes watered as much as my mouth as he handed it over to me. I sank my teeth into the end of it, hungrily devouring the whole loaf within a minute. A stifled but still rather large belch confirmed my satisfaction.

"I thought you'd like it," Koenma told me with a smile.

"Well, now that business has been taken care of, why don't we kick Suzaku's sorry face in?" Yusuke suggested.

"Because we have one final piece of business to complete," I told him. "I'm not the only revival needed here."

"What do you mean?" Kurama asked.

"A friend of mine also died today, but by unnatural causes."

"You mean Garrett, don't you?" Koenma asked. He held up a file with my friend's picture on it. He opened it up and rummaged through it. "Cause of death: bullet to the back of the head; died at the age of twelve. If anything, he would have gotten sorted into the Veteran's department, due to his trigger-happy nature."

"Yeah, that's Garrett for you."

"If you wish to bring him back, you'll need to bring his spirit back here. I'll send Botan to fetch his body and make the necessary preparations. The Veteran's department is down the hall and three doors to your right, just past Heaven and Valhalla."

"Okay, I'm confused. How many places like that do you have here?"

"Any Great Beyond that has ever been described. We try to satisfy every request that comes our way. At the moment, we have about fifteen individual Great Beyond facilities."

"About time to head out, don't you think?" Kurama asked me.

"Yeah, I believe it is."


End file.
